


PoETober 2018

by MinionRipley



Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 01:25:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 4,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16588100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinionRipley/pseuds/MinionRipley
Summary: A collection of short stories for PoETober 2018.





	1. Pillars

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts are from [PoETober 2018](https://pillarspromptsweekly.tumblr.com/post/178395296941/an-inktober-prompt-list-for-fans-of-pillars-of).

A jagged row of massive pillars swirled emerald green against the bright blue sky, towering over the forest path even from the crown of the mountain where they stood some miles away.

 _Adra_ , the caravan master had called them.

Even in the Living Lands, En had never seen the like before. Or at least not like this. Small trinkets and amulets of strange stone, lines of glimmering inlaid pebbles in weapons made more for show, and on the rare occasion the carved disc of an enîach from Eir Glanfath. Once she’d seen a paperweight of the stuff on the desk of a merchant who’d come all the way from Old Vailia. She’d never had a chance to do more than look, however, as her grandfather had been quick to snatch up any he could get his hands on for his experiments.

But she’d never imagined _this_.

 _Papa would have had a field day here_ , she mused as she squinted up at the rocks.

Perhaps she could…

No. No, she wasn’t here for that. She’d left that life behind. Here she could start a new life, with a new home and new people. After finding little luck wandering the Dyrwood for several months, the offer of land from the lord of Gilded Vale to settlers had sounded nearly too good to be true for her sore feet.

 _It’ll be a whole new beginning_ , she promised herself.

En wiped the sweat from her oddly warm brow. _Yes, a new beginning._


	2. History

Howls of pain and terror. Heavy, wet thuds, followed by the crack of breaking bone. Pleas – for forgiveness, for mercy – echoed down the damp hall made of cold stone.

_What… What have I done?_

En woke to hands shaking her by the shoulders. She blinked blearily at the worn desk she’d fallen asleep on, upon which lines of dust still streaked the surface from when she’d cursorily swept it earlier. The enchanted light stone she’d set on the far corner cast sharp shadows over the old books and crumbling scrolls piled around her. Any daylight through the aged windows had long since gone.

She turned in her chair to find Edér stooped over her, a crease in his brow. “I’d ask if you were all right, but I could hear you screaming from out in the hall, so…” He shrugged.

“Sorry.” En rubbed her eyes. “Did I wake anyone else?”

“Aloth and the new guy, Kana. Told them to go back to sleep, that I’d handle it.” He rubbed the back of his neck, then smiled. “Durance slept like a brick, though.”

“Small miracles, I suppose.”

He chuckled. “Yeah.”

But she didn’t miss the strained undertone in the sound, nor the fact he didn’t leave, instead shifting from one foot to the other. She sighed around the unspoken question.

“It’s fine, Edér,” she said. “Just a dream. Or a memory, I think. Of my past life. It was… unpleasant.”

“Figured that last part.” He eyed the mess of the long forgotten library around her. “What were you doing anyway? Surprised if you found more book than mouse droppings and dirt in here.”

“Searching,” she said. “I’d hoped to perhaps find some notes from Maerwald on my condition. Or a journal, or some other account of his experiences. He’d at least have had that. Wouldn’t he?”

Edér gave the room another long look.

“I think whatever you’re looking for is history in more ways than one at this point,” he finally said.

En rubbed her eyes again.

She was so tired. She was always so tired these days.

“Yeah, you’re right. History.”

Edér offered her a hand. “Come on. Let’s get you someplace to sleep. Someplace nicer, at any rate.”


	3. Voice

At the creak of footsteps on the stairs, En hardly needed to look up from her writing to know whose they were – as well as their mind.

And in this case it had nothing to do with her ability as a cipher. At least, mostly. After a year of travel together before and now again for half of one, she had gotten to know these particular footsteps quite well. Their even, almost languid stride when content; the uncertainty in a nervous, clipped pacing; the slow plodding of deep thought. These, however, were quick, sharp, and hard – irritation.

His mind also steamed like a simmering pot.

“Come in, Aloth,” she called.

The steps paused, surprised, for a second before the man in question opened the door and nearly sunk into the cabin with a heavy sigh. She didn’t have to guess why. In that brief moment the door was ajar the third verse of “My Wahaki” warbled up from the deck below. Somehow Tekēhu had managed to get half the crew singing along with him, including Eld Engrim. It wasn’t half bad, actually.

The scowl on Aloth’s face spoke differently. “Every time,” he muttered, rubbing his temples. “I’m studying my grimoire in my bunk, and suddenly he decides it’s time to practice his chanting. Or just sing in general, apparently. I could nearly swear he’s doing it on purpose.”

“He could be,” En replied, setting down her pen. “His way of getting you to loosen up, perhaps?”

“Well, I don’t appreciate it.”

She waved him further in. “Rest for a bit, Aloth. You’re always welcome in here, you know. It’s your room, too; you don’t have to keep using your bunk.”

A small smile ghosted across his lips as he set his grimoire on a table. “I know,” he said, stepping over to press a brief kiss to her crown. Then he sat on the bed to toe off his shoes before stretching back. “All the same, I’d still like to keep it, so long as there’s room. It’s… nice, in a way, to have my own space. At least until Tekēhu walks in.” He rubbed his temples again.

“I understand,” En said. “Do you have a headache? I could give you a massage if you’d like.”

“That would be welcome.”

She scooted her chair up against the bed while he rolled to his front. As she drew soothing circles into his neck and shoulders, he sighed in renewed ease.

“Thank you,” he said. “My apologies for barging in like that.”

“It’s all right. It’s good to see you.”

“Besides,” he said, and she could nearly hear his grin, “I like your voice better.”

En laughed. “Flatterer.”


	4. Belong

It wasn’t something he expected to find.

At least not like this. Maybe at the end of his exile, once he’d figured out who he was and all the soul-eating stelgaer crap had cleared up at last. He’d imagined striding back to his tribe in the Thein Bog, his shoulders strong and his back straight, and being welcomed with the accepting arms he’d dreamt of as a kid. And some comely lasses for good measure, since he’d gotten older. And then he’d gotten even older and, well, the only accepting that’d come was that maybe some dreams weren’t meant to be.

But this… This was nice enough, he decided.

Hiravias watched from his perch in an old oak tree, chewing on the bread from his midday meal, as Edér tried and failed to tempt one of the Watcher’s cats closer with a string. The Watcher herself was off to the side of their little makeshift camp, repacking the bags with Sagani and Kana’s help. Everyone else busied themselves with their own tasks, or in Durance’s case proverbially sawed logs under another tree – which was arguably his best side anyway. Even the peasant woman with them was nice enough to gather what few things they still had left out. Though, he couldn’t figure out why she stuck around. Eh, probably didn’t matter.

It was… homey, almost. Like a warm fire after a long day of slogging through rain and muck. He’d joined for the safety of a group, but they’d come to strangely fit each other. And he’d gotten, well, fond. He didn’t really want to admit it, and he knew he shouldn’t. They violated the Builders’ ruins on a near-daily basis, and he was going to deal with that someday, really he would, but…

He breathed deep of the piney forest air and bit off another hunk of bread.

In a way, he mused, they were all terribly alike. Outcasts, misfits, a part of them adrift in one sense or another. Well, save for that peasant woman, maybe. Some of them tried to hide it, but just because he had one eye didn’t mean he couldn’t see for shit. But, here, together, well…

“Hiravias!” the Watcher called. “Hey, Hiravias!”

He jerked from his reverie and rubbed the stump of his right ear. “Yeah, what is it?”

She grinned. “Thought you’d fallen asleep for a moment there. We’re about to head out. You ready?”

“Sure. Be down in a minute!”

He swung over the branch and started down the tree, hiding his smile against the bark.

Together, they all belonged.


	5. Seasons

En pressed a hand to the window and sighed.

Autumn and winter, whole seasons, had gone without even a glimpse of any of the faces she’d once been so used to waking to every morning. She received letters on occasion, true, but words on a page simply couldn’t measure up to a warm, familiar smile or a heartening laugh.

It was nearly five years now since that day. The day they’d laid the final blow to Thaos and his plans. Not long after she’d bid farewell to her companions as they went their separate ways, and she’d taken up the mantle of Lady of Caed Nua in full. A few of them returned to celebrate the first anniversary – Hiravias from his nearby wanderings, Aloth from his research in Defiance Bay, Edér from his fresh start as mayor of Dyrford – but most were too far or too absorbed in new ventures to return. She didn’t blame them, and the four of them had toasted gladly enough with an aged bottle of Aedyre wine and recounted days past. But each year brought fewer to Caed Nua, till only letters and Edér’s rarer visits or hers to him remained. Then even the letters began to dry up, no matter how many she wrote or sent this way and that, leaving her to sit and wonder from her keep.

Surrounded by delegates, supplicants, and servants and the stronghold bustling with trade and travelers every day, she couldn’t help feeling… lonely.

“Is something the matter, my lady?” the steward’s voice intoned.

“Ah, no, nothing to worry about,” En answered, turning to walk the halls. “Just lost in my own head. Guess I never quite kicked the habit since my Awakening,” she joked.

Skepticism hung in the air, but the steward only said, “Very well.”

As the corridor quieted once more, En returned her gaze to the hedge maze it looked over, then to the wild forest greening with spring beyond. She hummed in thought.

Perhaps… Perhaps it was time to go out and find her friends herself, to take adventure by the horns and live anew again. It wasn’t as though the keep usually needed her these days anyway; the steward already took care of most of the day-to-day matters. She could arrange things with her, tie up any lingering threads, and then she only had to gather her things and set out on the road. Just like old times.

En smiled. Yes, she’d like that a great deal indeed.


	6. Ruins

Edér drove the horse like Hel itself snapped at his heels, only stopping in Defiance Bay to change it for another so he didn’t run the poor thing to exhaustion.

It’d taken just a day for news to hit Dyrford. At first an earthquake, the keep in rubble and scores dead. Then an explosion of some kind, a chasm that’d opened underneath, a monster that’d swallowed Caed Nua whole. Then clearer reports trickled in, and the ice that’d formed in his gut froze the rest of him solid. After that, the rest was a blur. Rounding up anyone and everyone who could help and the supplies to go with them, and a surprisingly large crowd he’d got. But he couldn’t stay to travel with them.

He had to know. He had to _see_. Even if…

He couldn’t finish that thought.

The sun was just starting to rise, casting the starry black of the sky into hazy violets and blues, when Edér saw the smoke. Several wisps trailing high, blanketed by a thicker haze that already scratched at his throat. Campfires, he assumed of the former, and he didn’t need to guess the latter. The air was dead. No wind, no birdsong, the only noise that of the crunch of dry dirt and drier husks of grass under the horse’s hooves. A particular sound – or lack thereof – he thought he’d left behind five years ago.

He rode to what remained of the eastern gate, and there he found survivors huddled around some fires between a scattering of makeshift tents. A few looked up as he approached, but they were too exhausted and wide-eyed with remembered fear to do more than stare. Something like a half-stifled wail came from past the gate, amid the even softer calls of people further in.

He’d barely opened his mouth, still uncertain of what to say, when a man – cleaner than the others, but only just – stepped out of a nearby tent. The man eyed him for a long moment, then waved him down, let him hitch his horse to a pole, and led him into another tent without a word.

It was dim inside, and it took his eyes a minute to adjust. By then, the man had already gone. But he knew he wasn’t alone.

“Edér?”

The once-imposing stone figure of the steward stood near the entrance. Now, she was in pieces, only her torso and head whole, the antlers of her mantle broken and set aside, and the rest he could only guess. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know how that felt.

He nodded. “Yeah, it’s me. Is…?”

“Lady En alive? Yes.”

And like that a weight in his chest he’d carried since he’d first heard dropped away, leaving him dizzy with relief, and he nearly swayed on the spot. He leaned against a nearby crate to steady himself as he pressed a hand over his temples, wiping away the cold sweat that’d gathered.

“Where?” he said.

But he needn’t have asked, as it was then he finally made out the shape at the other end, a lump he’d passed over as simply more supplies. Now he could see it was breathing, a slow, steady motion under a blanket atop a bedroll, a head of dark hair peeking out from beneath. But something about it gave him pause, something that sent a shiver through him and raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

“Edér, wait. You should know—”

But he was already walking over, his heart in his throat, and he knelt down and eased aside the cloth.

And it was that late night in Elafa’s house years ago all over again. Glassy eyes looking up but not looking at him, face limp and loose, and that unnaturally deep, even breathing.

Edér screwed his eyes shut.

This was a nightmare. He was going to wake up. Now.

He opened his eyes. But En was still there, staring up with that empty gaze.

“I’m sorry,” the steward said.

He knew it wasn’t her fault, that she couldn’t have prevented this, but all he could do was sit there and listen to her explain as he looked down at what had been his closest friend in years. His mind was blank, taking in words but not processing them. She told of the adra statue buried beneath Caed Nua breaking free, of hundreds whose souls had been shorn like wheat and the keep in burning ruins, of aid already come from nearby settlements and Defiance Bay, of the search for survivors and those tending to the injured.

He sat quietly through it all, till she said, “It appears the further the statue moves, the more Lady En weakens. I can only assume the enormity of her soul left enough for her to live for a time.”

 _For a time_. _For a time_. It echoed in his head.

“Then… that’s it? There’s nothing we can do?” he said at last, and it didn’t sound like his voice. It was too far away, too suddenly tired and lost.

The steward stayed silent for a long moment. Then: “Might I suggest a ship?”


	7. Worship

Pallegina mes Rèi stood at the crest of Aedelwan Bridge, looking west, beyond the city’s walls, with a hand upon the hilt of the sword at her side. Even from a distance, the white stone of the dome atop the Vailian embassy rose high, gleaming like a pearl in the sunlight.

But a few more steps, and she would be beyond Vicent Agosti’s reach. For a while, at least.

A small grin tugged at her lips. Maybe he would enjoy it as much as her. She couldn’t begrudge the man some peace and quiet at last, not now that she had an opportunity to look into the troubles plaguing the Dyrwood with this… Watcher. She knew little of their kind and even less of their talents, but she knew it likely to be her best – and perhaps only – chance. Before she must travel to Twin Elms, before she…

Not for the first time, doubt prodded at the back of her mind. Vicent’s words echoed. Insubordination. Untrustworthy. She grimaced against the heat it stirred in her chest.

Pallegina pressed a finger to her feathered temple.

She must have faith. If not in herself, if not in the ducs bels’ decisions, then in the future of the Republics. In the end, the future was all anyone truly had.


	8. Depths

En hefted Abydon’s hammer, the weight of it in her cold hands nearly too solid for her to bear, and took a heavy breath. Then she swung it at the crystal.

A startlingly clear tone resounded through the cavern, shivering through her teeth, as a single crack opened. She turned to her companions standing across near the path leading out and waited for some sign it’d worked. They eyed their surroundings uncertainly, their exhalations fogging in the shard-lit cave.

Several long moments passed. Then a ripple shuddered over the water between them. Then another, and another, each larger than the last.

“Go!” she shouted.

But they hesitated, staring with wrought expressions. For a brief, terrible second, she locked eyes with Aloth, and in her mind flitted all the things she’d left unsaid.

There was no time for it now, though. Not any longer.

“Run!” she shouted again. “They’re coming!”

Finally, they nodded and hurried to flee, Edér gripping Aloth by the shoulder when he still lingered. In short time they disappeared from sight around a corner, and neither did it take long for the quaking of the cavern to drown out their footsteps. It grew worse, deeper, with each passing moment.

En dug into the satchel at her side and pulled out the aged, rusting helm she’d found with Mylla’s help. She set it over her head with shaking hands.

“Let’s hope your invention works, Iverra,” she muttered.

She fastened it shut, and then she readied the hammer once more.


	9. Follow

The white sails billowed in the sea-salt wind, ropes creaking with the effort to keep the boat beside the dock. The ship – bigger than she’d ever seen on the lakes or rivers near home – strained and leaped in the choppy water, as if trying to break free. Like a nervous horse sensing a coming storm.

Or had the storm already gone?

She turned to the talking of people striding down the walkway, but their voices came to her as distant echoes, blurring and bouncing between one another till she felt dizzy from it. Even as they drew closer, they were no clearer, and so instead she watched. And reached out.

Five of them, four human and one dwarf. Each of them bearing their own worries, but none more so than the tall, blond man whose shoulders bowed with them.

Between them, they carried a stretch of canvas taut with a heavy weight. Then she realized it was a body. No, not a body, but a person. She could feel their mind, just a little, like running her fingers over the ragged edge of a torn shirt. But even that little felt… familiar.

She reached further, waiting for a memory to jar loose in her own mind. Dark brown hair, green eyes, the round ears and lighter skin of a Meadow woman. With each new detail the fog of the dream lifted, and she could nearly recall. A hand tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear as she stirred from sleep. A kind smile, a calming hush, as the woman straightened and quietly stepped away.

_“You are safe now, Vela.”_

Now she remembered. It was not the first time she’d dreamt of her.

She watched the ship leave, drifting away to the horizon, to paths she could not follow.

“Vela,” another voice called. “Vela.”

She grumbled, digging her face deeper into her blanket.

A hand rubbed her shoulder with a soft laugh. “Come, my little anamŵen,” the voice – Lliras – said. “It’s time to wake. We must continue yesterday’s lessons on the Builders.”

“Don’t wanna,” she huffed. “I was having a dream. A _special_ dream.”

“Another one?” he said, and at her mumbled assent he hummed in thought. “I wonder… It is said that some mind hunters can track their quarry even in dreams. Maybe you’ve taken to your own wanderings?”

Vela finally looked up, blinking blearily against the light coming from the door. It was open a crack, just enough to let the morning sun in. Lliras knelt beside her bed with his ever-patient smile. Her ears twitched at the chirping of birds outside, and she sat up with a yawn and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Already the sorrow of the dream, of the blond man and the torn woman, was fading from memory.

“What’s that mean?” she asked.

“It means,” he said, arching a thin, elven brow, “you may become a great mind hunter someday, as well as a great leader. Even more so with your strong soul.” Then he added, “But only after your lessons.”

She sulked. “Aww.”

Lliras chuckled as he stood. “Some food first, though, hm?”

“Yay!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Anamŵen_ – soul maiden


	10. Key

Aloth woke, not knowing why.

He stared drowsily into the dark cabin, listening to the ship groan and the waves lap against the sides and the dock beyond. It was a calm night, and moonlight painted the far wall in silver streaks through the gaps in the window curtains. En lay next to him, a comfortable warmth against his side, her even breathing a sign she still slept. The peace of it lulled him, and he let his eyes slip shut once more.

But only a moment. He looked about again, strangely ill at ease. He’d long since been a light sleeper, but not without cause. And yet…

Had he simply dreamt it?

_Nae, it were nye dream, lad._ Though quieter now, Iselmyr still rose up on occasion, particularly when off-guard. But she spoke true; it wasn’t his imagination.

Something scratched at the door.

Then it meowed.

“Go away,” he hissed. “We’re sleeping.”

This provoked the opposite effect, as the cat pawed harder at the door and meowed again. En finally stirred next to him with a groan and rubbed her eyes.

“What’s going on?” she yawned.

“Nothing to worry about, my dear,” he said, turning to her and squeezing the hand closest to him. “Apparently just one of the cats in a mood tonight. Go back to sleep.”

The cat meowed louder.

“Oh, that’s Gosha!” she cried. “He must be feeling lonely.”

He stared at her. “How can you even tell which—You know what, never mind. As much as I cherish your kindness, I’m sure it can go without company for a night. Or find it in Edér.”

Again the cat whined, then swept a paw underneath the door for good measure.

“He’s just a cat, Aloth,” she said. “You’ll hardly even notice.”

A whisper of essence, and it coalesced into something not quite a vine, nor quite air. The magic of it heated the cabin, like a memory of summer, as it shimmered out from the bed and twisted over to the door. Some clever turn on a druidic spell she’d come into, he surmised as he craned to watch.

Aloth shook himself of his reverie.

“ _En_ —”

The bolt slid out, the latch turned, and hardly a heartbeat later the cat shoved its way inside, over onto the bed, and between the two of them. It promptly began purring like a Vailian engine.

“Too late,” she said, stifling a laugh.

He surrendered with a sigh as he lay back, then gave the cat several mollifying strokes along its head. It purred harder and kneaded its claws into his side in return. He pried them away with a grimace.

“One of these days,” he said, “I’m getting a lock and key for that door.”


End file.
